


Soft as Velvet, Thick as Sin

by tess_genor



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Background Case, Confessional, Dark Malcolm Bright, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Priest Gil Arroyo, Religious Guilt, Slow Burn, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor/pseuds/tess_genor
Summary: Father Gil Arroyo bumps into Malcolm Bright at a coffee shop one day and an unlikely friendship begins to blossom. As their friendship grows, Gil finds himself falling for the mysterious Malcolm. As a priest, Gil shouldn’t be falling for anyone, let alone someone like Malcolm who has confessed a few dark habits.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 18
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Oona’s [Tore My Heart](%E2%80%9C)  
> A few chapters will have songs that go along with them so keep an eye on the notes for music ;)

Gil Arroyo wakes up at seven a.m. like he has for as long as he could remember. His alarm clock blares the morning news and Gil grunts as he stretches his arm out to quiet the machine. Except Gil misjudges the angle and he ends up pushing the clock further away from him.

”Should just start using your phone, Arroyo.” He mutters to himself. His voice comes out hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing his eyes and waiting for the cloudiness to fade, Gil rolls over to his back and stares up at the ceiling. Eventually, he can see without a haze of sleep lingering over him and he knows that it’s time to start his day. Gil has always loved routine. He likes things that he knows. There’s safety in waking up and knowing exactly what to expect from your day. Some call it monotonous, but Gil finds comfort in the little things.

He stands from the bed and stretches. His back cracks and Gil grins at the sound. Gil quickly makes his bed so he won’t be tempted to crawl back into its warmth and heads for the bathroom to relieve himself. Hopping in the shower, Gil takes a few extra seconds to rest his head against the wall and enjoy the steam. He dries off and wraps the towel around his waist. The towel isn’t luxuriously soft, but it’s not threadbare either. If he were honest with himself, Gil would admit that he misses the richness life could have, but he took a vow and he’d be damned if he broke it.

Gil goes through the motions of brushing his teeth. He keeps the listerine in his mouth as he cleans up his beard. He spits the mouthwash out. Gil opens the mirrored door on the medicine cabinet and grabs his mousse. It’s the same brand he’s been using for nearly a decade. Jackie had picked it out for him. _Jackie_. God, Gil misses her. The years had gone by quickly without her and just because Gil found a new love doesn’t mean that he loves Jackie any less.

Once Gil is confident that he looks presentable, he steps back into the bedroom. He walks over to the dresser and picks out a comfortable pair of black slacks. He slides them on easily and tucks his undershirt into the waistband. The morning news had said that today is going to be fairly warm for a spring day so Gil chooses one of his black, short sleeved button ups. He does the buttons up all the way to his throat fairly quickly and tucks the tails of the shirt into his pants as well. He slides the thin faux leather belt through the loops on his pants and fastens the buckle.

Gil faces his reflection in the mirror that hangs over his dresser and smiles at himself. He never thought he would find his calling, let alone his _vocation_ so clearly. He gently picks up the small white bit of plastic in one hand and flips his collar down with the other. Carefully, he slides one end of the collar into the fold and then the other, positioning it until it rests between his chest and the collar of his shirt. All that can be seen is the small but blindingly white square at the front of his throat. Gil takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

”Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love commits me here. Ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.” Gil whispers.

Once he’s done praying for protection throughout his day, Gil lifts the keys to his car and pockets them. He grabs his cardigan from the chair and tosses it over his shoulder. It’s better to have the sweater and not need it than it is to need the sweater and not have it. He looks over to his alarm clock once more and notices that it is nearly 7:45, Gil spent much longer in the shower than he had budgeted for. He’ll have to skip breakfast if he wants to make it to the community center for when it opens at eight.

He rushes out to his car and pulls out of the parking lot. The radio plays whatever pop songs are charting and Gil nods his head to keep time. Of course, he has to hit every light on the way to the community center, costing him an extra two minutes that he already didn’t have to spare. His normal spot is taken by someone who had the good fortune of getting there before Gil. The clock reads 7:58. He’s not late, not as early as he would like, and the two minute walk from the back of the center means he’ll get there just in time to open. Gil curses without thinking and winces at his lack of self control.

”Father Arroyo, good morning!” Maria calls as soon as he enters through the doors.

”Morning, Maria. Apologies for not being here earlier.” Gil grabs an apron off of the hooks and fastens the strings behind his back.

”Nonsense, Father, we’re happy to have you here in any capacity. Could you join Brian with serving? I’m still setting up the tables.” She smiles politely. Gil knows that he isn’t required to be here. Hell, it’s not even an event run by the parish, it’s just community outreach. Still, Gil knows the tables would have been set up already if he wasn’t late.

Gil rounds the table and claps Brian on the back to say hello. Immediately the crowd of people line up and wait for Gil to place some food on their plates. There’s trays upon trays of french toast, bacon, eggs, home fries, not to mention the baskets of fruit, bagels, and other danishes. His stomach grumbles. Gil skipped breakfast and the aromas and the food in front of him are only making his hunger pains worse.

”Here, Father.” Maria hands him a cup of orange juice. “We got a new juicer. I wanted you to have the first glass.”

”Thank you dear, it looks wonderful.” Gil downs the glass and raises his eyebrows in approval.

”That good?” Maria laughs.

”I can taste the love and dedication you put into this whole place, Maria.” Gil says. He resumes organizing food on waiting plates.

”Oh, you flatter me, Father.” Maria blushes slightly, takes the empty glass, and returns to the kitchen.

”Maria couldn’t have made this possible without you. You know that, right?” Brian asks without looking over at Gil. A few people mumble thank you’s and Gil says a blessing for them.

”The only person devoted to this place as much as her is you, Brian. I’m just happy to help where I can.” Gil clears the last bit of scrambled eggs from his tray and stacks it with the other empty ones.

”Ever since you started here, our attendance has nearly doubled for both volunteers and visitors. You gave us credibility.” Brian places his hand on Gil’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

”It’s my honor.” Gil places his hand on top of Brian’s and squeezes.

The two men continue to serve food until they run out. They mingle with the visitors and, as usual, Gil finds himself the center of attention. Not necessarily preaching, but still lecturing nonetheless. He tells a story from his college days, back before he was in the seminary.

”I was a junior, nearly finished with my degree mind you, and was dating this wonderful woman named Jackie. We were together for six years. High school sweethearts. I was ready to propose to her, I wanted to spend my whole life with her.” Gil sniffs. “That summer she went to the hospital for some inexplicable pain. She was diagnosed with cancer and died a few months later. I was devastated. I dropped out of school, moved back in with my parents, and just overall became miserable. That’s when I found God.” Gil smiles and looks around at his captive audience. A few of the people have tears in their eyes and Gil knows that he wears matching ones.

”How’d you find Him, Father?” A little girl asks. Gil smiles down at her. Him and Jackie would have had kids.

”My mother begged me to go to mass with her. She had been asking for weeks and I never wanted to go. Whatever reasoning she used on me that day, it worked, and I went with her. The homily given that day was about God helping loved ones find peace on the other side. It was exactly what I needed to hear. That homily was meant for me. The next day I went out and began my vocational journey.” Gil leans back in his seat and waits for more questions. He answers them as best he can. He prays over a few people who ask for his blessings. Eventually he notices Maria and Brian lingering in the kitchen doorway.

”If you all will excuse me, I should help clean up. But all of you are more than welcomed to come to mass tomorrow at nine.” With that Gil stands and heads into the kitchen. He picks up a serving tray that had been soaking and starts to scrub furiously at the lingering syrup.

”You’ve never told that story before.” Maria starts gently. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.” She places a hand on his arm, her thumb stroking against his bare skin.

”Thank you, Maria. Yeah, I never am really sure how people would respond to that story. I mean a priest in a steady relationship doesn’t exactly fit with what most people expect.” Gil dries his hands on a towel and turns to face Maria. She can see the pain in his eyes.

”You’re human, Father. You experience emotions like the rest of us. God can’t protect you from yourself.” She takes the towel from his hands.

”Today is our anniversary.” Gil smiles sadly. Brian pats him on the back.

”You don’t have to stay here. I’m sure there’s things you want to do today besides clean up with us.” Gil appreciates Brian’s attempt to give him an out.

”I missed breakfast today, so if you don’t mind I might run out to grab food.” Gil knows that Maria and Brian won’t object.

”Please, don’t let us keep you.” Maria stands between Gil and the sink, not allowing him to help anymore.

”You spent the whole morning helping us serve food, you must be starving.” Brian grabs Gil’s sweater from the rack and exchanges it for Gil’s apron. “Where are you going?”

”There’s this coffee shop a few blocks from me. I go there pretty often, so all the employees know me.” Gil’s lips press into a thin smile. He doesn’t want to spend the day alone, the coffee shop is a good way to force himself to be around people.

”I hope you enjoy, Father.” Brian walks Gil out to his car. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call either of us. Maria and I are here for you.”

”Thank you, Brian, I appreciate it.” Gil pulls Brian in for a hug before swinging his car door open. Maria joins Brian outside and they watch Gil drive away.

Helping out at the center always calms Gil’s nerves. He loves seeing all the people and being able to aid those in his community. Not to mention that he enjoys having people listen to his stories with genuine interest. As he pulls into the parking lot Gil removes his clerical collar. He only has to wear it when he’s doing work relating to the priesthood and buying breakfast certainly does not count. He places the small plastic strip into the glove compartment and grabs his wallet.

Most of the time Gil eats breakfast before the community center so he only gets an iced coffee and an almond filled croissant, but today is not most times. He’s hungry. Ravenous even. He waits patiently on the line to order his food getting a few looks when his stomach growls extra loud. The aromas wafting over the counter and through the kitchen doors are more than enough to get Gil to order more food than he needs.

”Morning, Cassidy.” Gil smiles at the young woman behind the counter.

”Gil! Let me guess, the usual?” Cassidy winks at Gil. She’s a college student studying political science. She works here on the weekends in exchange for a place to host her study group.

”Actually, I’m going to tack on a breakfast bowl.” Gil laughs.

”Oh splurging today are we?” She smiles and begins to punch in Gil’s order.

”You know what? Why not? Swap out the bacon for the steak tips.”

”How fancy. So the breakfast bowl with steak, a large iced coffee, and an almond croissant?” Cassidy doesn’t even look up. She knows she has his order right.

”Perfect as usual.” Gil opens his wallet and waits for the total.

”That’ll be $11.45.” Cassidy waits for Gil’s response.

”That can’t be right?” Gil gives her a questioning look.

”I rang it up under me. Gave you the employee discount. Keep it our secret?” She smiles at Gil. He knows that Cassidy appreciates him stopping in so often. On some late nights he’s driven her home from her study group.

”My lips are sealed.” Gil mimes zipping his lips shut. He hands Cassidy $20 and his frequent customer punch card. He has two left before he gets a breakfast sandwich for free. Cassidy closes out the tab quickly and hands Gil his change and the punch card. Gil puts all the change as well as a five into the tip jar.

Gil steps away from the counter, slips his wallet back into his pocket, and walks over to the other side of the shop to join the other customers waiting for their food. He gets a text from John, a deacon from his diocese. It’s an invitation for Gil to join him for dinner tonight. Gil’s just about to reply when he hears his name called, signalling that his order is up.


	2. Chapter 2

At the counter another barista takes Gil’s receipt and slides him his food. He looks down at the bowl of food and the utensils to go with it, his large iced coffee, and the croissant in a pastry bag and wonders how he is supposed to get to his normal spot in the cafe without dropping any of the food.

”Do you have any of those trays?” Gil wonders. All of his hopes are crushed the moment he sees the barista give him an apologetic smile.

”No, I’m sorry sir. We just gave out our last one. The rest are all being cleaned right now so it may take a couple of minutes.” The man behind the bar steps back, already working on grabbing the next customer’s order.

”Alright, no problem. I can do this myself.” Gil mumbles to himself.

Gil balances the bowl in his palm and pinches the bag and the napkin wrapped utensils between his fingers of that same hand. He struggles to pick up the coffee with his phone lodged between his fingers, but he manages to pick it up, as long as he holds the cup somewhat loosely as not to hurt his hand.

As he walks down the aisle, Gil is more focused on keeping his food balanced than clearing any of the other customers. His phone buzzes in his hand and Gil carefully turns his hand so that he can see the screen. It’s another text from John. This time the message is longer, John telling Gil he’s sorry for his loss and that Gil must join John and his grandmother for dinner so he doesn’t have to be alone on a difficult day like this. Normally, Gil tries to avoid the Watkins’ family. They’re good people, but they can be a little much and Gil always feels like an outsider listening to their endless conversations. But today Gil could use the company of people who know what it’s like to lose someone you love, and Gil would take any company over none.

Gil is so lost in his own head, trying to formulate a response to John’s text that he doesn’t hear the sharp sound of a chair sliding across the floor. Gil doesn’t feel the people behind him reach for his arm to stop him. He doesn’t see the young man with his back to the aisle get up without looking to see if anyone is coming.

It all happens in slow motion. Gil’s foot catches on the leg of the chair as he steps forward and the other man’s head bumps into Gil’s chest as he goes to stand up from his seat. The momentum is almost enough to throw Gil completely off balance, but he catches himself at the last moment. The other man is not as lucky though because Gil’s iced coffee and breakfast bowl are spilled down his front.

”Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” Gil trips over his words worse than he tripped on the chair.

The man looks up from the mess on his shirt and Gil notices that his hair is drenched with the coffee. The man looks up at Gil with shockingly blue eyes. Gil watches a drop of coffee make its way down the man’s face, near the corner of his mouth, and his tongue swipes at it. The man laughs and grabs the napkins next to his danish.

”My apologies, I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention either.” The man smiles as Gil continues to stare at him.

”I’ve ruined your shirt. I am so sorry.” Gil sets down what’s left of his food on the table and grabs a napkin. He begins to dab at the coffee that will inevitably stain the man’s white button up. The man pushes Gil’s efforts away.

”Oh please, don’t worry about it. I have about five other shirts at home that look identical to this one. It won’t be missed.” The man stands and begins to pile the spilled food so that it’ll be easier to clean.

”You don’t have to do that. Let me clean up my mess.” Gil grabs the man’s hand and they lock eyes. The other man smiles.

”This is most certainly my mess and my fault. Let me buy you a fresh meal?” The man reaches for his bag.

”No, goodness no. It’s alright. I have food at home, I didn’t need to spend the money on this today. Not even sure why I did.” Gil doesn’t know why he’s telling a complete stranger all this.

”Please,” the man hesitates.

”Gil!” He introduces himself and mentally scolds himself for not opening with his name. “I’m Gil.”

”Please, Gil. At least let me get you a new coffee. God knows I can barely function without mine.” The man nods at his mug on the table.

”Sir, that’s really not necessary.” Gil is aware that the entire coffee shop is staring at the two of them.

”Christ, calling me sir makes me feel like my father. I’m Malcolm.” Malcolm grins and Gil finds himself relaxing at the sight.

”Malcolm, I don’t suppose there is anything I can do to apologize?” Gil blushes. Today has been such an off day and this is just the cherry on top.

”I already said let me buy you a new coffee. Which I’m guessing,” Malcolm brushes his thumb along his forehead and brings it to his lips, “was the iced house blend, with hazelnut syrup and half and half.” Malcolm laughs when Gil blushes and nods. “No shame in liking a little sugar.”

”I can’t take it straight.” Malcolm quirks an eyebrow and Gil is quick to correct. “Coffee that is. It’s too bitter black.”

”I’ll be right back with your coffee. Don’t disappear on me.” Malcolm taps the table and heads off to wait on the now shorter line.

Cassidy comes over with some cleaning supplies and she begins to wipe down the table. Gil sits down in the now open chair and gazes longingly at his normal chair in the corner. Since he was running behind his normal schedule another customer nabbed his seat. It’s probably for the best that he stays at this table with Malcolm. It would be rude for him to accept the stranger’s generosity and then to leave Malcolm.

”I see you finally met Malcolm.” Cassidy strikes up conversation as she’s bent over the pile of food on the floor.

”It would seem so. You know him from school?” Gil picks at his croissant and waits for Cassidy’s response. Instead she rolls her eyes.

”He may look young, but he’s in his thirties, so no he’s not in school with me.” Cassidy stands and fixes her apron. “He’s been coming in for a few weeks now. You always seem to just miss each other. I was wondering when you two would finally sit down at the same time. You’re both regulars.”

”Well just my dumb luck that the first time we meet I dump food all over him.” Gil groans and bites off a piece of his pastry.

”He’s a nice guy. I don’t think it’s as big of a deal as you think. Besides, we didn’t charge him for the coffee, accidents happen.” Cassidy pats Gil on the arm. “I’ll make sure you get a tray next time.”

The two of them share a laugh and just as Cassidy steps away Malcolm sits back down at the table with a new iced coffee in hand. He gives it a shake, rattling the ice around the plastic cup, before handing it over to Gil.

”Thank you, Malcolm.” Gil takes a sip and raises his eyebrows at the other man. “This is not half and half.”

”Nope. It’s oat milk. Better for the environment and better for you. You’re quite welcome, Gil.” Malcolm smirks and raises his own mug. “A toast, to looking out for others.” Gil nods and taps his cup to Malcolm’s.

”Speaking of, I feel awful that I got so much coffee all over you. Even in your hair. If you want, you’re more than welcome to take a shower by me. I could wash your clothes and I have a selection that you could pick from.” Gil worries at the straw between his lips.

”I am feeling a bit sticky…” Malcolm trails off as he looks at his watch. “Shit, I only have a couple of hours before my meeting, definitely not enough time to go back to my house. Do you mind if I take you up on that?”

”I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.” Gil smiles. He feels like he can finally repay Malcolm for getting him a new coffee and putting up with being covered in coffee and scrambled eggs.

”Thanks, you have no idea what that means to me. Would we be able to head out once we’re done here?” Malcolm grips his notebook tightly and slips it into his bag. Gil can tell he’s eager to get out of the ruined clothes.

”Of course. I can take my drink with me, so just let me know whenever you’re ready and we can go.” Gil flattens the now empty bag that held his croissant.

”In that case, I’m good to go now.” Malcolm downs the rest of his coffee and grabs his keys out of his bag. “Lead the way and I’ll follow.”


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm Whitly grew up with the world in the palm of his hand. An attractive boy from a family of power, he had no issue getting what he wanted. Today, what he wants is to get everything on his to do list checked off, and if that means waking up at 8am, then so be it. It’s a labor of love for Malcolm.

First things first, Malcolm has to use the bathroom. Shower, brush his teeth, fix his hair, the usual. He has to look his best. Today is a very important day. Today is Day One of his plan. His plan that he’s put a month’s worth of blood, sweat, and tears into, though it was rarely ever his own blood, sweat, or tears.

”You know what you have to do. We’ve worked this out. There’s no room for error, it’s going to go off without a hitch.” Malcolm reaffirms in the mirror.

Malcolm recently started making a habit of daily affirmations. The small promise of helping to quiet his inner demons is enough to get Malcolm to do anything. The affirmations don’t have the same relief as some of his other hobbies, but it's quick and easy, and Malcolm can’t afford to spend a lot of time outside of his plan.

Every Saturday, Malcolm dresses up and goes to a small coffee shop. It’s a bit of a drive, nearly forty minutes with traffic, but Malcolm doesn’t mind. He gets to see the most important person in the world there. Well, most important person for the time being, just until Malcolm loses interest.

His phone rings and without looking Malcolm can tell it’s his mother. Only she would bother him this early in the morning. Malcolm places the phone on the counter, sighing heavily before hitting the speaker button and puts on a voice dripping in insincerity.

”Good morning, Mother. To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice so early in the morning?” Malcolm rolls his eyes. He just wants to be left alone.

”Really, Malcolm, is that anyway to talk to the woman who’s funding that strange love of yours?” Jessica is referring to his assorted weapons collection. His favorites he keeps in his apartment and the rest go to museums. “I’m sure you forgot, so I’m reminding you that tonight is the dinner for your father. His new operation technique just got approved and he’s getting some award. Before you ask which, I don’t know. You just need to be there.” Jessica talks without pause, not letting Malcolm get a single word in.

”I did not forget, Mother. Unlike you, I actually care about Dad’s work. He’s helping people and he deserves the recognition.” Malcolm bristles. Jessica is always so quick to dismiss her husband.

Martin Whitly is a world renowned cardiothoracic surgeon. His steady hands and out of the box thinking make him one of the best in the country, if not the best. Jessica would say that Martin has a god complex which is true. Martin is a narcissist, not unlike his son. Malcolm just gets his dad. The two of them are inseparable, bonding over the stupidity of humanity and the brevity of life. While Martin has dedicated his life to saving people, Malcolm favors another way to exercise his power over life and death.

No one knows about Malcolm’s peculiar affliction. His quiet passion for watching the light drain from someone’s eyes, the rattle of a shaky last breath, the absolute mastery that comes with taking someone’s life. It’s beautiful and it’s a gift that Malcolm only shares with a select few that he deems worthy of his time.

Each one of Malcolm’s victims have to meet a certain set of requirements just to even be considered. They need to be good looking, they have to be an adult, and they have to be interesting. Any wannabe can grab a random stranger off the street and kIll them, but that’s tasteless. Why would Malcolm waste his time on someone he didn’t enjoy? Malcolm understands his victims, he studies them, watches them carefully from a distance until he knows enough to approach them. Then he works his way into their life. He befriends them, gets them comfortable and trusting, taking up all their time until no one will notice if they’re missing. The ultimate trojan horse, Malcolm ingratiates himself with a gentle smile, hiding the sharp teeth and rotten soul within.

”Your father just likes the attention, so he wants all of us there tonight. Which includes you and your sister. Not sure why the two of you are so intent on ditching your family for your friends.” Jessica sighs into the phone and Malcolm’s speaker crackles.

”I’m sure it has nothing to do with living in our parents’ shadows.” Malcolm retorts. The Whitly children were never big on attending events with their parents. Jessica was always trying to play matchmaker and Martin was too worried with his own image to see that his kids weren’t having fun. They were always on display for someone else’s appraisal.

”You were born into high society, dear, deal with it.” Jessica snaps back. If she had to put up with it, her kids can learn to embrace it. “If you hate it all that much you can go and get a job and be normal. Would that suit you better?”

”I’m fairly comfortable-”

”Good. Then I’ll see you tonight. Come over early so we can all arrive together. Your father wants us all stepping out of the car so he can have a photograph to put in his office.” Jessica rattles off the commands as though her grown son is still a child who needs to be guided through every little detail.

”Fine.” Malcolm grimaces. “I’ll see you tonight, Mother. Send Dad my love.” He makes no effort to hide how much he wants the call to end.

”Ah, thank you, my boy. See you tonight!” Martin calls. Malcolm should have known that his father was listening to the call. Martin was the topic of conversation, of course he’d want to know what’s being said about him.

”Hi, Dad. I really should start my workout.” Malcolm wants out. He wants to rerun his plan over in his mind. He can’t let his parents distract him.

Luckily, Malcolm’s parents agree that it’s time for the call to end. Martin and Jessica appreciate their son’s commitment to fitness. Martin likes for his son to be in shape, it gives off an air of power. Jessica knows that girls will find Malcolm to be a more suitable partner if he plays into society’s beauty standards. Malcolm works out because it gives him something to focus on. It’s another aspect of his life and body that he can manipulate with ease to shape his world as he wants.

Finally able to refocus his thoughts to his work, Malcolm packs his bag. He throws in a spare set of clothes, his wallet, and his journal. That little leather bound book is the most important thing in his life. Malcolm would be lost without it. Written on those pages are all of Malcolm’s plans and goals. A log of all that Malcolm has accomplished. It’s enough evidence to damn Malcolm to a lifetime in prison.

Malcolm has been attending this coffee shop for about a month. Waiting until the time is right to make his move. It needs to be subtle. He needs to stick to the plan, allow for everything to look as though it just happened to fall into place. Switching from one target to the next used to be something that Malcolm struggled with, but the coffee shop has given him easy pickings. In just a few days Malcolm will be finished with one obsession and move on to the next. Today’s events are just the first step in a very long plan of action.

This next mark has Malcolm on edge in the best of ways. He hasn’t felt the thrill of plotting a kill like this in a long time. Not since he first started a few years back. Something about this person excites Malcolm. Just the thought of the screams make Malcolm feel giddy.

”Well, that was dumb.” Malcolm scolds himself as he goes back over to his bag and pulls out his journal. “Don’t know why I packed this. I still need to look it over. Just to be sure.”

The journal easily falls open to the page Malcolm needs. The page is etched into the spine’s memory. Malcolm pours over this page daily and has been for nearly a month. There’s not much written on the page, just a few numbers in a neat row, a coffee order, and one simple sentence.

_”My apologies, I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.”_

Malcolm slides his finger under the sentence. It’s disarming. Nothing about it is accidental. Malcolm needs the man to trust him. If Malcolm takes some of the blame and does the man a favor, it is much more likely that he’ll be receptive to Malcolm.

The numbers on the page are a time table. They mark off the times the man is usually at the coffee shop. Malcolm plans on spending the entirety of that time frame in the coffee shop. He has a few online auctions that he’s been keeping an eye on and this will give him more than enough time to check up on those. Malcolm’s phone buzzes once, then twice, then a third time. He slams his journal shut and looks over at his phone. It’s Ainsley.

_You’re going to the event tonight right?_

_Wait yeah you told me to bring your jacket_

_Do you still need me to bring it?_

_Yeah thanks_

If his plan works out perfectly, Malcolm can properly meet his next mark and make it back in time for his father’s dinner. Ainsley will bring his suit jacket so he doesn’t have to worry about it getting wrinkled in his car.

Malcolm obeys all the traffic laws as he drives to the coffee shop. No point in drawing unnecessary attention to himself. Even if he did get pulled over, Malcolm knows that he has enough pull to make the officer walk away. The blessings of being a rich, white man.

Cassidy smiles at Malcolm as she punches in his order before he can even say hello. He orders the same thing every time, a cappuccino with two sugars. He also grabs a blueberry muffin that he only picks at for a bit before throwing out. Food never sat right with Malcolm.

As it gets closer to the bottom of the schedule in Malcolm’s notebook he gets nervous. What if the man doesn’t show up today? Did he spot Malcolm last week and get spooked? Maybe Malcolm miscalculated? Malcolm laughs at that thought. There’s no way his math is wrong. Other people make errors, but not Malcolm. Never Malcolm. The man is probably running late. That’s fine. Malcolm is more than willing to wait him out.

Just as Malcolm is growing tired of waiting, the man walks through the doors. He’s unusually somber while he and Cassidy share a brief conversation. The man is distracted, he keeps checking his phone and frowning. Whatever the reasoning, Malcolm doesn’t care, it’s a help to him that the man is not fully aware of his surroundings anyway.

The man grabs his food and it must be Malcolm’s lucky day because there are no trays. He has to carry all of the items himself. Malcolm watches the man struggle to keep all his items balanced and look at his phone. The man glances to his normal spot and sees that it is taken. He turns to head down the aisle where Malcolm is sitting. This is the moment. This is the first domino. Malcolm times it perfectly

3… 2...1…

Malcolm pushes his chair backwards and goes to stand. He makes sure to twist his chair so that the leg catches on the man’s foot. Malcolm angles his head so it bumps into the man’s chest. Malcolm knows that when someone is driven off balance they will use their arms to counteract the momentum and Malcolm is relying on that. He needs the other man to feel bad about ruining Malcolm’s shirt and hair more than he cares about his spoiled food.

”Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” The man trips over his words worse than he tripped on the chair. _It’s cute_ , Malcolm thinks to himself. It’s obvious how easily flustered the man is.

Malcolm looks down at the mess on his shirt and makes an effort to have doe eyes when he looks back up at the man. The coffee is sticky in Malcolm’s hair. A stray drop makes its way down Malcolm's face, winding up near the corner of his mouth, and he catches it with the tip of his tongue. Malcolm giggles when the man’s eyes grow wide and watch Malcolm’s movements closely.

”My apologies, I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention either.” Malcolm smiles and the man continues to stare at him.

”I’ve ruined your shirt. I am so sorry.” The man sets what’s left of his food down on the table and grabs a napkin. He begins to dab at the coffee that will inevitably stain Malcolm’s white button up. Malcolm lets it go on for a bit, lets the man feel comfortable touching Malcolm before he pushes the man’s hand away. The plan was to stain the shirt, Malcolm has spare clothes in his bag anyway.

”Oh please, don’t worry about it. I have about five other shirts at home that look identical to this one. It won’t be missed.” Malcolm stands and starts to clean the food that spilled. He wants to make it easier for Cassidy to clean. Plus, it’ll make the other man see him as a kind person.

”You don’t have to do that. Let me clean up my mess.” The man grabs Malcolm’s hand. Malcolm makes sure to look deep into the other man’s eyes. He lets a smile slowly spread across his face and the other man smiles in return. It’s said that staring into someone’s eyes makes them more likely to trust you and feel a connection.

”This is most certainly my mess and my fault. Let me buy you a fresh meal?” Malcolm reaches into his bag, avoiding his journal and going for his wallet.

”No, goodness no. It’s alright. I have food at home, I didn’t need to spend the money on this today. Not even sure why I did.” The man hesitates, unsure of where his sentence was going. Malcolm takes it as a good sign. Any bit of information this man volunteers Malcolm stores away for later.

”Please,” Malcolm pauses, allowing for the man to state his name.

”Gil!” The man introduces himself and grimaces. “I’m Gil.”

”Please, Gil. At least let me get you a new coffee. God knows I can barely function without mine.” Malcolm reminds himself to find common ground. He nods at his mug on the table.

”Sir, that’s really not necessary.” Gil protests. His eyes dart around the shop, probably surveying the rest of the customers as they stare at them. Malcolm pays them no mind, his focus is only on Gil.

”Christ, calling me sir makes me feel like my father. I’m Malcolm.” Malcolm catches Gil’s slight frown when he says Christ. Malcolm aims a blinding smile directly at Gil. _Be proud, but not threatening. Seem confident, but still humble._ Gil is older than Malcolm, he can use that to his favor by having Gil see him as a child so to speak. Childlike innocence can get someone very far in life.

”Malcolm, I don’t suppose there is anything I can do to apologize?” Gil blushes. It takes all of Malcolm’s self control to not point it out. To state that Malcolm already can manipulate Gil’s emotions. Malcolm is certain that Gil can feel the heat in his cheeks.

”I already said let me buy you a new coffee. Which I’m guessing,” Malcolm brushes his thumb along his forehead and brings it to his lips, Gil’s eyes dart to where Malcolm’s mouth makes contact with his finger and then quickly look back up to Malcolm’s eyes, “was the iced house blend, with hazelnut syrup and half and half.” Malcolm already had Gil’s order memorized, but if he can lie and trick Gil into thinking that Malcolm has a secret talent for guessing coffee orders, well that’s a bonus.

“No shame in liking a little sugar.” Malcolm hopes that the joke is obvious. Malcolm never really gave his sexualty a thought. If he found someone attractive he’d sleep with them, but he never lets it go serious. The other person never makes it that far anyway. People are nothing more than a means to an end, whether it is pleasure Malcolm is seeking or a release. In Malcolm’s world, he can get both. Each mark is brought back to Malcolm’s apartment, his domain, where he is most comfortable and has all the tools he needs at his disposal. It takes a bit of extra preparation, but the rush of taking life after sleeping with someone is worth it. Malcolm enjoys a blood tinged afterglow.

”I can’t take it straight.” Malcolm raises an eyebrow. So Gil is gay, good to know. Malcolm can turn on the charm, lay it on heavy. Gil catches his mistake and quickly corrects himself. “Coffee that is. It’s too bitter black.” _Such a shame._ Well, either way Malcolm knows he can get Gil exactly where he wants him.

”I’ll be right back with your coffee. Don’t disappear on me.” Malcolm taps the table and heads off to wait on the now shorter line.

Cassidy is just leaving when Malcolm returns to the table. Gil offers for Malcolm to wash up at his house and Malcolm can’t believe his luck. Only a few minutes into meeting Gil and the man is already offering up his address. Of course Malcolm takes Gil up on his offer. If Gil already trusts Malcolm enough to allow him to use the shower in his house, it’s an opportunity Malcolm can’t pass up.

Malcolm downs his coffee in record time and gets into his car. He follows Gil all the way back to his house. Malcolm can’t believe his eyes. It’s not even a house. Gil pulled into the lot of a closed Catholic elementary school. Maybe Gil is playing a prank on him. There’s no way the man lives here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want it to be known that this chapter sparked the great shower handle debate and im sorry

Gil parks and steps out of his car. Malcolm follows suit, but keeps his door open. If things go sour, Malcolm can always get back into his car, drive away, and move on. He’d have to find a new person of interest, but that’s simple enough really.

”This is, uh, where you live?” Malcolm questions. Gil looks serious and it puts Malcolm on edge. Gil is a big guy, even with Malcolm’s martial arts training it would be a struggle to fight him. Gil looks over to the school and laughs.

”No, gosh no. I get your confusion. The school closed a few years ago. That building,” Gil points to a small cottage style house to the right of the school, “is my house.” Gil locks his car and walks towards the building.

It's a small tan building. There’s nothing special about it. It’s quaint, with a front porch and what appears to be a vegetable garden in the back. There’s a sign on the front edge of the lawn, angled so that passing cars can read it. Malcolm reads it once, then twice, then a third time. He looks over to where Gil is standing near the front door.

”Saint Julian the Hospitaller Roman Catholic Church Rectory?” Malcolm calls across the parking lot. Gil laughs and pushes the key into the lock.

”I’m the pastor at St. Julian’s, so I live here in the rectory.” Gil swings the door open and furrows his brows at Malcolm. “Is everything alright?”

”Yeah, I just didn’t know you were a priest.” Malcolm lets an easy smile replace any of the concern he was showing. Usually he has a better grip on his emotions, but Gil blindsided him. A priest. Gil is proving to be the most interesting obsession Malcolm has had so far.

”We come in all shapes and sizes you know.” Gil jokes. He holds the door open until Malcolm meets him at the entrance and Gil waits for Malcolm to walk in first.

”Just not women.” Malcolm tosses out over his shoulder when he passes in front of Gil.

”Yeah, well… Are you religious?” Gil changes the conversation. He knows the Church has problems that need to be addressed, but he’s not used to someone being so upfront with their issues towards the Church.

”Nope.” Malcolm puts extra emphasis behind the “p” and takes in Gil’s house. It’s warm and inviting. There’s a few items like a guitar and an old Yankees poster that add touches of Gil around the space.

”Spiritual then?” Gil muses, a small smirk playing across his face.

”Wrong again.” Malcolm spins on his heel, wildly leaning over to look at Gil. “ I’m atheist.” Malcolm’s comfortable with the term and he’s definitely enjoying being contrary to Gil’s obviously strong faith.

”There’s no higher power you believe in?” Gil can’t say he’s surprised. It’s become more common to not have any faith. He’s watched his parishes grow smaller over the years. Malcolm also strikes Gil as the kind of man who wasn’t brought up on religion.

New York is a godless city run by heathens and devils. Demons run free in the streets and Satan himself holds all the power. It’s no wonder that the majority of people in the parishes here are those closer to Gil’s age. People around Malcolm’s age don’t care about God. They worship the shiny idols stuffed inside their pockets: money and technology. Why care about the afterlife when the world of the living is so much better?

”You can’t prove the existence of a higher power, and I only trust what I can see.” Malcolm smiles politely. Poor Gil is disillusioned. God doesn’t exist, and if he did, He wouldn’t care about what humans did. Not in the way Gil teaches.

Malcolm was raised on science. Science evolves as all things do, and should. When a theory is disproved another rises to take its place. There’s no room for growth in religion. Only for the same group of people to enforce the same rules that no longer work. With Martin as his father, Malcolm was introduced to the clean precision of science from a very young age. That and the possibility of controlling another’s life. That’s as close to religion as Malcolm will ever get. With himself lording over someone else’s final moments.

”If I’m not mistaken, science can’t be proven either. Only accepted and disproven theories.” Gil rests against the wall. He’s heard every argument in the book and there’s nothing he can’t come up with a response to.

”Looks like someone is well versed in theory-ladenness.” Malcolm’s eyes alight when Gil has an easy comeback. How exciting that someone can match him word for word, argument for argument. Gil is a welcomed breath of fresh air.

”Not only that, I also have a shower head with spectacular water pressure.” Gil pushes away from the wall and leads Malcolm through the house into the bedroom. Malcolm follows Gil at a slightly slower pace. There’s so much to learn in just the little time he spends in the rest of the house.

Malcolm pays no mind to the living room, now that he’s been here once he is sure that Gil will invite him back another time. The bedroom is where all the important information is. That’s where people feel the safest, where they can be free to be who they really are without the prying eyes of others.

Gil mentally thanks himself for his routine. If he didn’t make his bed and straighten his room he’d be mortified to have Malcolm over. The room isn’t showy. Gil never has people over in a way that really matters. Besides, he took a vow of poverty, there’s no need for a master suite.

The bedroom is small, Malcolm notes, but he knows that it’s not because of choices Gil made. This house was provided for him. It’s what Gil does with the space that matters. There’s a large dresser to the right and an ornate chest of drawers on the left. On the far wall of the room is the bed with a nightstand flanking either side. It’s unusual. Most people who sleep alone in a bed will have it touching two walls. It’s people who sleep with someone else in the bed that have it only touching one wall.

On the left nightstand is a picture of a beautiful woman with dark hair, laughing. She doesn’t look to be related to Gil. Malcolm will have to ask about her later, but maybe Gil won’t be so forthcoming. Malcolm can keep his questions to himself. People always reveal things once they're comfortable, and if Gil takes longer than Malcolm wants, well, Malcolm can just get the information on his own.

Some Yankees memorabilia sits atop the chest of drawers as well as a model car. The car is in a clear box. Gil values it. Everything in the room is spotless and appears to have been placed carefully. It’s very empty though. There’s no clutter, no proof that the room is lived in. Not even a pile of clothes on a chair that everyone always seems to have.

”Here’s the bathroom. I replaced the towels this morning so feel free to grab one from the rack. You can drop your clothes that I dirtied outside the door and I’ll leave a clean outfit for you to change into.” Gil’s voice startles Malcolm. He forgot he was being shown to the bathroom and not just shown around the house.

”Really, Gil, thank you for your kindness.” Malcolm lays it on thick. He’s in Gil’s house. About to be at his most vulnerable. Malcolm needs to keep his wits about him, needs to keep Gil trusting and relaxed. Gil’s heart breaks for the young man. Malcolm was just trying to have a peaceful morning in the coffee shop and Gil completely ruined his outfit and quite possibly his day.

Gil bows his head slightly and closes the door to allow Malcolm some privacy. Gil stuffs his hands into his pockets and shuffles into the garage where the donation bins are. There’s got to be at least one item that will fit Malcolm. It may not be or look as expensive as the shirt and pants he entered with, but Gil is more than happy to provide Malcolm with some relief from the mess he caused.

Malcolm dresses nicely. Everything fits him just the right way, but still Gil can’t help but wonder what the man looks like beneath his clothes. Is he as lean as he appears? Or maybe there’s a slight build to him? Enough muscle to break up any angles on his small frame. It’s been so long since Gil let his mind wander to someone else’s body. For a while, all Gil would allow himself to think of was Jackie, but after some time passed her body faded away into nothing more than a vague, flesh colored object of lust. Not at all how Gil wanted to remember her. But now, Gil has a new image seared into his mind. A pale boy with streams of water glistening off his chest. Gil chokes on a cough. He can’t fathom what came over him to think of that. He’ll say the rosary tonight and ask for forgiveness.

Back in the bathroom, Malcolm listens for Gil’s receding footsteps before he turns the shower on. The lock pops into place with a satisfying _click_ and Malcolm knows that this small space of Gil’s world is now his to explore.

All of the toiletries are full sized bottles. None of that three in one sad excuse for body wash bull shit. Malcolm trails his fingers along the bottles, brushing them lightly so not to disturb them. Gil can’t know just how much Malcolm touches.

Not wanting to make Gil wait, Malcolm strips down to his underwear. He folds his clothes and piles them outside the door before locking it once more. He plays with the shower handle until the temperature is just right. The soaps lined up along the ledges of the shower are all luxurious. Malcolm chooses one at random and rubs vigorously until the soap lathers along his chest. He’ll smell like Gil, a thought that Malcolm relishes.

Malcolm wishes he knew how today’s events were going to pan out. He would have come more prepared. He’ll have to remember as much as possible and jot everything down in his journal as soon as he has the opportunity. Malcolm showers as quickly as possible, then steps out and towels off, but keeps the water running. The steady patter of the falling water helps to muffle the sounds of Malcolm digging through Gil’s cabinets.

Under the sink lies nothing out of the ordinary. Malcolm digs through boxes of toilet paper, bottles of soap, and a few spray bottles. Gil’s not hiding anything. Malcolm goes to repack the box and ends up knocking a package of bandages out of the box and into the small space between the edge of the cabinet and the wall. Malcolm blindly grabs for the box and smirks as he grazes the pages of a magazine. Just by feeling it Malcolm can tell it’s old. The pages are brittle and thin from use. A fine layer of dust coats it. It hasn’t been touched in a while. Carefully, Malcolm guides the magazine out, and the light catches on the glossy pages.

The date is from the early 90’s. Malcolm _was_ right, it is old. He’s not shocked though, he’s normally right. Still, Malcolm’s mouth drops. On the cover is a thin boy in a bathing suit that’s tight enough to leave very little to the imagination.

”Father Arroyo, what do we have here?” Malcolm eyes the magazine once more before replacing everything back to their rightful spots. Just as Malcolm shut off the shower a knock comes at the door.

The towel draped around Malcolm’s waist loosens as he reaches for the door and it’s perfect. It's a subtle nod to the magazine Gil hid away. Malcolm throws the door open and it takes all of Gil’s will power to keep his eyes locked on Malcolm’s. Gil struggles to not notice the dusting of hair that covers Malcolm’s chest, or the way some slight muscle eases the angles of his body, or especially not how Malcolm’s hips are bracketed by two lines that go down into the towel.

”I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh. I’ll just- I’ll go.” Gil sputters. He looks away and hands the clothes over to Malcolm, practically throwing them at the other man. Gil turns on his heel and rushes out of the doorway.

”Thank you!” Malcolm calls. His voice echoes in the room.

The clothes aren’t Malcolm’s first choice, but they just have to hold him over for a few hours until he gets to his parents’ house. Malcolm adjusts everything in the mirror until he’s happy with how he looks. It’s easy for Malcolm to pull off anything, so he’s quickly satisfied.

As he approaches the kitchen, Malcolm can hear running water, and Gil hands him a glass. Gil refuses to make eye contact. He doesn’t need any further fuel for the unholy thoughts from earlier. Thinking about Malcolm was bad enough, but then seeing him in actuality, and having something to go off of.

”I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to barge in on you like that.” Gil turns his back on Malcolm. He opens up a cabinet and pulls out a tray of coffee cakes.

”Oh no it’s fine, really. I mean, I did open the door. I’m so used to being the only person in my house. You’re lucky I even put the towel on at all.” Malcolm laughs easily. Gil takes a large bite of the cake just so he doesn’t have to say anything.

The two of them stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counters, quietly. Neither of them want to start the conversation. Gil, still mortified from his mishap earlier in the day, refuses to give himself anymore room to make tragic mistakes. Malcolm basks in the silence. He gets to watch Gil’s body language, not to mention that if Malcolm asks too many questions Gil might start to get suspicious.

Eventually the silence becomes grating. Malcolm hears every time Gil swallows and Gil still refuses to make eye contact. Malcolm gave in five minutes ago and took a coffee cake, but he finished it and can’t take the silence anymore.

”So, Father, how did you come to be a priest?” Malcolm asks nonchalantly. He resettles against the counter comfortably, in direct opposition with Gil who stiffens at the question.

”It’s somewhat of a long story. But all that matters is that I found God. He was there for me during a very difficult time in my life- I’m sorry.” Gil inhales deeply and looks away. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes. He can’t talk about Jackie anymore, especially not today. “Today is just a heavy day for me.”

”I didn’t mean to pry.” Malcolm lies. 

“No, no. I know you weren’t. I’m sorry I hope you don’t think me rude.” Gil tilts his head down to look Malcolm earnestly in his eyes. 

“You welcomed me into your home. There’s not a rude bone in your body.” Malcolm finds himself smiling at Gil.

“It was the least I could do for you, Malcolm. Now tell me: how did _you_ come to be?” Gil drums his fingers along the edge of the counter. Malcolm can tell he’s eager to learn more about the stranger in his house. 

“Well there’s not much to me. My family was the poster child for the American Dream. My mother and father had two kids, a boy and a girl, in that order. The only thing missing was a dog and picket fence. But mom drank and dad wasn’t around much, so I went away to school and never looked back.” Malcolm shrugs. Gil didn’t need to know more than that. Doesn’t need to know that Malcolm is the closest thing America will get to royalty. That his father wasn’t around much due to long shifts at the hospital and traveling the world promoting experimental surgery techniques. 

“I’m sorry.” Gil doesn’t know what else to say. Malcolm waves the apology away. He doesn’t need Gil’s pity. 

“I've been alone my whole life I’m used to it. Every now and then I’ll get the pangs of sadness over the fact I never had a true father figure in my life, but mostly everything is good. Why harp on it?” Malcolm knows that he’s not telling the whole truth. He doesn’t want to. He only reveals what Gil needs to know. Just enough information to make the man feel bad for him. See him as weak. The perfect amount of broken and strong to make Gil want to be his friend. No one can resist an underdog.

Gil’s heart breaks for Malcolm. Sure Gil’s relationship with his father was tense at best, but at least he got to see the man. He can’t imagine how Malcolm must feel. To know his father was there, but not really. Malcolm was able to get out and that’s all that matters. Despite all the troubles that Malcolm went through, he was able to turn out into a fine and respectable young man. Or so Gil thinks.

”You’ve already told me your stance on faith- and I make it a point to not be one of those pushy Catholics- but our family mass is 9 am on Sundays. If you’re free, you’re more than welcome to join.” A small smile graces Gil’s lips. He’s embarrassed by his strange olive branch. Still, the church is like his home and if Malcolm has already been inside his house, the least Gil can do is invite him to mass. Besides, Gil is old enough to be Malcolm’s father and as soon as Malcolm opened up about not having a true father figure, Gil wanted to step in and be there for Malcolm. Inviting him to mass was the next logical step for Gil.

”Thank you, but I think I’m going to have to pass. Religion isn’t something I’m used to. I’d feel too out of place. Besides, I don’t want a non-believer taking up room for the faithful. There are people in the world who need prayers more than I do.” Malcolm doesn't dare tell Gil that he’s foolish for believing. That there’s nothing out there listening to his flocks’ cries. That if there is a God, He lets such horrendous things happen every day. Things that Malcolm has done.

Instead Malcolm holds his tongue. Gil accepts it and moves on. While he wasn’t expecting a yes, though Malcolm has an air of surprise about him, Gil was holding out for a yes. He’s disappointed. He wants to see Malcolm again and _soon_. Sadness flashes across Gil’s face briefly, but Malcolm catches it nonetheless. Malcolm prides himself on how quickly Gil has already fallen for his act.

”I should get going…” Malcolm pushes away from the counter. A small crease has formed in the clothes from where he was resting. Gil’s face immediately drops. He doesn’t want to be alone today. He already told John he would spend dinner with him, but Malcolm’s company is much more preferable.

”Yes. Right. Your meeting.” Gil stifly extends his hand.

”You’ve practically seen me naked, we can hug like friends.” Malcolm grabs Gil’s hand and pulls him into a hug. At first, Gil is hesitant, but then he relaxes and sags into Malcolm’s arms. Gil needed this hug.

”Thank you, Gil.” Malcolm takes his clothes from where they sit on the counter behind Gil and heads for the front door. He’s cutting it close. Odds are his mother will be waiting by the door for him when he arrives.

”I hope to see you again.” Gil rubs at the back of his neck. He’s so awkward around Malcolm and he can’t quite put his finger on why.

”I have a feeling you will.” Malcolm waves and steps through the door. Gil believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a pretty solid idea of where I want this story to go now, so I'm hoping updates will be a little more consistent. Something that came with the new outline was me realizing I needed to add in some characters, so the total chapter count has increased by two.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter, chapter six, is going to be a graphic depiction of one of Malcolm’s kills. There is NO major character death in this story. There will, however, be minor character death. I’m going to do my best to make sure that nothing super plot-y happens in the chapter, so if you don’t do gore there’s no pressure/need to read chapter six. I’m going to summarize, in non graphic detail, what happened in chapter six in the closing notes of chapter seven, and will work dialogue in a way to make sure that any important information is given to the readers who didn’t read chapter six. If you have any q’s about chapters six or seven, now or later when it’s posted feel free to message me on tumblr: @tess-genor, discord protonphotoncrouton#0833, or on twitter: @tess_genor and I’ll answer with whatever info you want!

Gil takes comfort in the soft light of the sacristy. He goes through the motions of dressing and preparing for mass, his body on autopilot from years of experience. It’s not until he finds himself looking in the mirror that he realizes he is fully dressed for the celebration of mass. While Gil was getting dressed, his mind was working backwards. Thinking of the young man he met just the day before. Malcolm had a way of worming into the forefront of Gil’s thoughts, even though their meeting was sudden and brief.

Malcolm wakes and stretches. He rolls over to his stomach and checks his phone. It’s 8am. It’s cutting it a little close, but he can get his normal morning routine done. Malcolm plans on surprising Gil at mass. Malcolm enjoys keeping other people on their toes. A rejected invite means that he might show up. Nothing is ever as it seems when it comes to Malcolm. He doesn’t need to play by the rules that others have to.

The steps going up to St. Julian’s are steep. They lead up to three large archways that frame solid wooden doors. Inside, a man greets Malcolm. He immediately notices that Malcolm is new and introduces himself as Brian. Malcolm smiles politely, but makes it clear he’s not interested in small talk. Brain takes the hint and allows Malcolm to walk through the second set of doors into the main area of the church.

The center aisle is wide and long, a clear path to the altar. Flanking either side are dozens of pews. Most of them are already filled with families crowding together. Malcolm’s never seen so many people waiting eagerly for a religious ceremony. Gil must really draw all these people in, which makes sense with how quickly he caught Malcolm’s attention.

Not wanting that same attention on himself, Malcolm turns left and pushes his way past the people, to the pews on the far side, a recessed wing of the church. The main doors are hidden by the enclosed confessionals jutting out of the wall and he’s just far enough back that anyone at the pulpit would have to turn to spot him. While the location isn’t ideal, Malcolm is thrilled to have a clear shot of Gil where the man won’t notice him. Malcolm gets to watch Gil at work. When he is no longer _just_ Gil, but Father Arroyo. The priest with a woman’s photo on his nightstand and a magazine stashed under a sink.

Malcolm’s never been to a mass before. He’s amazed with how everyone knows exactly when to stand, when to sit, when to kneel, how to walk. Thankfully, Malcolm is a quick learner and picks up on the cues easily. He blends seamlessly into the crowd, though he’s sure that some parishioners have picked him out as not belonging. Malcolm pays them no mind, he’s much more focused on studying Gil’s mannerisms. The way his voice booms through the speakers of the church. The ease to his voice when he sings the hymns. A side of Gil that Malcolm has never seen before.

Father Arroyo rises and so do the rest of the people. They all bless themselves and look towards him. He switches the light on over the pulpit and smiles at the crowd.

”A reading from the book of Luke.”

The crowd mumbles something Malcolm can’t make out between the overlapping voices and Gil begins.

”A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off, leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. Likewise a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side.”

”But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn, and cared for him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back’.” Gil pauses. The silence washes over the crowd as they try to decipher the message on their own.

” ‘Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?’ He answered, ‘The one who treated him with mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise’.” Gil smiles as he finishes the reading. Obviously, he is excited to share with his flock.

”That just so happens to be one of my favorite parables.” Gil steps away from the pulpit and stands at the center of the stairs. 

Everyone's eyes are trained on Gil. Much like in the food kitchen the day before, Gil prides himself on how well he can hold an audience. He loves preaching and all the parishioners make it so easy. This never feels like a job to Gil, it truly is his calling, and he’s more than happy to share God’s love with his brothers and sisters. 

“A funny thing happened to me this weekend that ties into today’s Gospel almost perfectly. God works in mysterious ways.” A few amens flutter up from the crowd and Gil laughs. His eyes full of love. “I met a young man after I had the misfortune of spilling my food over him.” Gil rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. 

Malcolm smiles. Gil is sharing the story of how they met to hundreds of people. Gil thinks that their meeting was accidental, an act of God. It was neither. It was weeks worth of work on Malcolm’s end. Malcolm quiets his inner thoughts and allows himself to hear what Gil thinks happened. 

“This young man was dressed impeccably. I mean, his outfit alone could pay rent, and there I was dumping coffee on him. I was so embarrassed. Yet, this man was gracious. I had expected him to be stuck up and rude, but he was generous.” Gil takes a few steps forward so he’s standing down by the front pews. Groaning as he goes, Gil sits down on the steps and visibly relaxes. 

“Would all the children want to come up? Come up here and sit by me.” He fidgets with his robes while he waits. 

The sounds of people shuffling their belongings to allow the kids to slip out echoes in the church. One by one, little kids make their way up the aisles and surround Father Arroyo. They all look so comfortable around him. Malcolm watches in awe as the children look up to Gil earnestly. Everyone strains forward, waiting to hear what else Father Arroyo has to say.

”What’s an important lesson from the parable, and from my story, is that you can’t be so quick to ignore people in need of help. Even if they look different from you. Even if every part of your being screams at you to avoid them. You must always do the right thing and help those around you.” Gil sits back.

Malcolm’s blood chills. Instinctively, Gil knew not to approach Malcolm. Something about Malcolm put Gil off. How interesting. Malcolm’s never run into that issue before. He’s always been _very_ good at getting people to trust him. Hell, Gil even invited him back to his house. Gil let him use his shower. Whatever small part of Gil found Malcolm despicable was quieted. Malcolm’s boyish charm and the challenge of acquiring a new sheep was stronger than Gil’s fear.

In school Malcolm was taught the “Three G’s of Colonialism”: gold, glory, and God. It seems that both he and Gil were working on one of the three. Gil looks to bring another person into the loving light of Christ so that their soul can be saved. And Malcolm, chases the personal glory that comes with taking another soul. Striking a name off of his list. The gold is easy enough for the both of them. Malcolm’s family inheritance makes gold commonplace and Gil works in a gilded shrine. Gold is nothing to them, they want what they cannot have.

”Children, remember that everyone was made in the image of God. A simple act of kindness can make someone’s day that much brighter. Just as the Samaritan in the reading helped the beaten man, and I helped the man from yesterday, wherever you can lend a helping hand, you must do so. Humans were not made to be selfish.” Gil stands and the children return to their seats.

Humans are selfish. That’s precisely what makes them human. Humans are not some special creation, they are just another piece of the animal kingdom, doomed to roam the earth until they die out, like the other creatures before them. Malcolm always thinks back to the other great animals. They all fight, rape, and kill each other. It’s not considered barbaric then. Only when humans do it. The Church will say it’s wrong, as though it hasn’t inspired countless stories and wars all in the name of God. And glory. And gold.

Malcolm’s thoughts carry him away from the gold and green hues of St. Julian’s. He recedes back into the darkest parts of his mind. Where he envisions himself doing unspeakable things to Gil, possibly in front of this very crowd. Malcolm scoffs at the idiocracy of religion. Of rules. Humans are animals, they’re not meant to have to behave. The laws of nature will always be king. The voice of a woman fades in while Malcolm slowly comes back to reality.

”...those who have passed away, especially our brothers and sisters. Jacob Burns and Marnie Cabbo…”

”Lord, hear our prayer.” The people respond.

”For the victims of the Agnostic Killer. May God welcome them with open arms and provide their families with the peace and solace they need.” Malcolm’s head shoots up. It’s been just under a month since his last obsession ended. These people aren’t even aware how close Malcolm is to the current one ending as well. Malcolm’s offended that they would pray to God and ask for Him to comfort Malcolm’s obsession. Don’t they know that the obsessions are Malcolm’s? That no one, nothing else, immortal or not, can have them. Don’t they know that God can’t hear them? There’s no comfort for them, not once Malcolm is done with them.

”Lord, hear our prayer.” Malcolm joins the crowd in praying for his obsessions. He mentally tacks on his own prayer, _May they all be as blissfully ignorant as my current obsession_.

For the rest of the mass, Malcolm is more than happy to be an observer. He doesn’t join the lines to receive communion, even though Gil instructed him on the proper way to approach. Malcolm stays quiet and doesn’t try to join in on prayers and responses. He is merely there to watch Gil.

Father Arroyo ends the mass. One by one, the families grab their belongings and head to the center aisle. They wait on a line that leads back to the main entrance. The object of everyone’s interest is no other than one Father Arroyo. He stands at the back, shaking hands and greeting everyone. A smile brightens his face. This is no act. He genuinely enjoys speaking to each person.

Malcolm waits for the line to reach the halfway point before he steps on. Gil is so focused on each person he’s talking to that he doesn’t even realize Malcolm is there until they are face to face.

Gil goes to shake Malcolm’s hand but pauses when he realizes who is standing before him. His jaw drops and Gil tries to play it off and turn it into an open smile. Not wanting Gil to feel bad, or add any more reason for Gil to think to stay away, Malcolm pretends not to notice.

”Malcolm!” Gil faults a step backwards before regaining composure and warmly shaking his hand. “I thought that this wasn’t your thing?”

”It’s normally not, but I thought I could make an exception for you.” Malcolm flashes one of his blinding smiles and watches Gil melt.

”I didn’t think you were going to show. I apologize if you didn’t like being used in the homily.”

”It’s alright. You didn’t say anything too identifying or scathing about me, so I think I can let it slide this time.” It’s really not fine, Malcolm would prefer that his interactions with Gil remain secret. Malcolm catches his wrist behind his back. It’s important that he keeps open body language despite his true emotions.

”This time?” Gil mocks. “So what happens if I do it again? You kill me?” Gil cracks up at his own joke.

”I might just have to.” Malcolm joins in on the fun.

”Thank you for being understanding. It was just too miraculous that you and I would meet, in the most unfortunate of ways, the day before today’s Gospel.” Gil turns his face skyward, closing his eyes on the ascent. “God works in mysterious ways.”

Malcolm stays quiet. He’s not going to start a debate with Gil, but he’s certainly not going to agree with him either. So Malcolm lets a pregnant silence envelop the two of them. Gil rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet a few times before caving.

”What did you think?” It’s a casual question, but the eagerness in Gil’s eyes betrays how badly he wants Malcolm’s positive response.

”You’re very captivating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen children sit still for so long.” Malcolm hopes the compliment will further endear him to Gil. The Father frowns.

”I meant the mass, not me. Though I’m flattered.” Gil motions over to a pew and leads Malcolm over to sit down. “I’m not as young as I once was. My knees can’t handle the constant switching between sitting, standing, kneeling. They lock up after a while.” Gil groans as he sits down, a reminder of the same sound he let out during the homily.

Malcolm stores this information away, but presses further. “So I guess your marathon days are behind you?”

”I was never on the track teams. I was too much of a baseball guy. But no more steals for me.” Gil’s eyes grow misty with nostalgia. “I was great at baseball. Got a scholarship for college and everything. One of the games is how I met-” he pauses, “how I met someone important to me.” Malcolm knows that this must be the woman from the picture.

”The mass was lovely. Forgien to me, but still nice. The routine of it must be calming.”

Gil nods, but before he can reply Malcolm’s phone goes off. Malcolm takes one look at the caller ID and hastily stands.

”I’ve got to answer this.” He offers no further explanation before jumping out of the pew. Malcolm frantically places the phone next to his ear.

”Hey!” Gil can only hear half of the conversation.

“No, no it’s fine that it’s last minute.” A small laugh. “You know I never mind, never for you.” Malcolm looks at his wristwatch. “Ah are you sure that it’s not too late? I know you’re an adult, easy there love.” Gil feels a part of him twist at the pet name. There’s someone out there who is Malcolm’s love.

”I already told you I’d pick you up. It’s fine.” Malcolm smiles and rolls his eyes. “Alright, that’s perfect. See you later. Bye.” The call disconnects and once more Gil becomes the focus of Malcolm’s world. Those few moments when Gil wasn’t the subject of Malcolm’s attention dragged on for years. Malcolm has a way of making Gil feel as if he was the center of the universe. The Church had issues with Copernicus when he presented his heliocentric theory of the universe, it would probably take offense at Gil’s new anthropocentric model. Malcolm’s attention on someone else cast a shadow on Gil. It was all or nothing with Malcolm.

”Everything alright?” Gil calls over his shoulder. Malcolm strides over and sits back down next to Gil. Close enough that the fabric of their garments occasionally catch on each other. The friction sending thrills of electricity up Gil’s spine.

”Oh yeah. Just picking a friend up tonight. You know her actually! Cassidy from the coffee shop.” Malcolm leans into Gil when he mentions the place of the accident.

”I didn’t know the two of you were close.” Gil frowns. The age gap is quite large. Cassidy is such a sweet girl and Gil doesn’t know Malcolm well enough to trust her with him.

”It’s not like that.” Malcolm snorts at the idea. “She has her study group late tonight. Her house is just a few blocks from where my sister lives. It gives me an excuse to bug my sister and help Cassidy out. You know, helping neighbors where we can, and everything else you said.” Malcolm looks at his watch once more. A universal cue that he needs to be going.

Gil can’t help but feel slighted that Cassidy would ask Malcolm to get her rather than him. He had been picking Cassidy up for weeks now. Forcing himself to be the bigger man and not dwell on it too long, Gil moves the conversation forward. “Thank you for coming here today, Malcolm. It means a lot to me.” Gil stands and shakes Malcolm’s hand.

”I had to repay your kindness from yesterday. Thank you for your generosity. I really have to head out. Business to tend to.” Malcolm shuffles out of the pew. He watches Gil bless himself at the entrance of it. The way the yellow lights dance along Gil’s hair as he bows his head. How well the jewel tones of his robes compliment his complexion. Malcolm basks in the heavenly sight. He sure knows how to pick them.

Sending a quick text to Cassidy to confirm the time she needs to be picked up, Malcolm waves goodbye to Gil, and slips out through the double set of doors. He needs to get back home. There are arrangements to be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notes at the beginning are very important! Please read them if you haven't


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve made a change to chapter three that’s important for the plot. If you don’t feel like going back to reread the chapter: I made a slight change to Malcolm’s MO, he takes all of his victims back to his apartment, under the guise of “romantic” intentions, before he kills them.
> 
> CW in this chapter for: blood, gore, death

Malcolm drops Cassidy off at her house. She runs up and turns to wave to him from the front door. All the while she thinks over the way Malcolm looked at her, refusing to let it slip her mind. Malcolm watches Cassidy hug her dad. He waves to Malcolm, thanking Malcolm for returning his daughter safely back to him.

”Can you pick her up from the study group this Friday?” He calls from the door.

”If Cassidy wants me to, I can!” Malcolm shouts back. Next friday is the perfect day for Malcolm to devote his time to Cassidy.

”Please!” Cassidy’s eyes grow wide, a pout forming on her lips. It’s cute. Almost enough to tug on his heart strings.

”Well, since you asked so sweetly.” Malcolm directs the next part at Cassidy’s father, “How can I ever say no to her?”

”See you next week then.” Her father smiles as he closes the door. Malcolm nods in response.

Rolling his window back up, Malcolm lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Talking to people has always irritated him. It was so unnecessary. He wished there was a way for everyone else to just immediately know what he wanted and acquiesce to him. It would simplify so much.

\-----

”Thanks so much for picking me up.” Cassiday closes the car door. She smiles gently at Malcolm, her eyes lighting up when he returns the smile. “I know it was sort of last minute, but it was really sweet of you to agree.”

”It’s my pleasure.” Malcolm reaches out to Cassidy. He squeezes her arm before pulling away from the curb of the coffee shop. He locks the doors. “I love spending time with you.”

Cassidy can’t help the rush of giggles that bubble up from deep within her. She’s never met someone quite like Malcolm. He always knows just what to say and he really sees her in a way that no one else has before. Ever since the first time she asked Malcolm to drive her back from the study group, she’s been spending more time with him.

Malcolm would pick her up and take her back to her house, but not before stopping to buy her dinner. He’d drive extra slow - not caring about the people in the cars behind him honking their horns - giving Cassidy enough time to talk to him about whatever she needed to. Malcolm’s a gentleman; he stays quiet, absorbing all the information Cassidy doesn’t realize she’s giving him.

The more she talks, the more comfortable she finds herself with Malcolm, the more her feelings for him grow. Malcolm’s sweet, overly affectionate, and he normally drops everything to spend time with her, but Cassidy tries hard to convince herself that it’s because Malcolm is just being nice. Her feelings for him are nothing more than a stupid crush due to proximity. Still, the squeeze Malcolm gave her sent a bolt of icy electricity coursing through her.

”Malcolm…” Cassidy lets herself feel bold. He looks at her and all the words she had planned to say leave her in an instant. When she doesn’t finish her thought, he pulls over to the side of the road.

”What’s up, baby girl?” The pet name rolls off Malcolm’s tongue like melted butter. The richness of his voice seeps into her and she sinks deeper into the passenger seat. She is thankful for the late hour, otherwise her blush would be entirely too visible for her liking.

”Kiss me.”

Cassidy doesn’t know what makes her say it, but she doesn’t regret it. Malcolm throws the car into park and grips the back of her head tightly. The pressure from his fingers is uncomfortable, but Cassidy plays it cool, it just shows her how much he wants her.

Malcolm’s lips are velvety. The slight stubble irritates her skin, making her more sensitive to his movements. Cassidy slides her palms up his chest until she’s gripping his shoulders. Willing time to freeze so she never has to let go. She’s been waiting for this moment, no, not waiting, _dreaming_ about this moment since the second she laid eyes on him.

”Malcolm, please.” Her hand leaves his shoulder, reaches down to find his hand, and guides it to her waist. Malcolm nips at her lips, silently asking for her to quiet down and kiss him again. She does. Malcolm’s irresistible. Breathless, Cassidy tries again.

”Malcolm, I want- Please.” Forcing herself to stop and think, she rests her forehead against his. “I want you.”

Malcolm pulls back. He has to feign being stunned into silence. He pauses, but not nearly long enough to give Cassidy enough time to change her mind. “I’m on Lafayette and Kenmare.” He presses one more kiss to her delicate lips before putting the car back into drive.

”I’m gonna have to sneak out.” Cassidy laughs. “I’m in my twenties and I still have to sneak out like I'm in high school.”

”It’ll be like an adventure. Think of it like a movie-” Malcolm grins. Cassidy is coming over tonight.

”I’m the protagonist of a coming of age movie. Sneaking out to go visit my forbidden, bad boy love interest.” Giddy, she covers her mouth. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to her.

”Oh I’m a bad boy now?” Malcolm wills himself to loosen his grip on the steering wheel.

”What would you consider a thirty year old wooing a twenty year old and encouraging her to disobey her parents?” With a smirk, Cassidy rests her head against the window, thinking she’d cornered Malcolm.

”I’d consider him lucky to have such a wonderful girl in his life.” Malcolm’s response is planned out ahead of time. He’s thought through this conversation in a number of ways.

Every stop light blinks in Malcolm’s favor. Each car ahead of him switches lanes, granting him easy passage back home. Most of what he needs he was able to set up after spending his last morning with Gil. All he has left to do is wait for Cassidy.

\-----

Cassidy knocks on Malcolm's door. He counts to twenty before he gets up and goes to her. She’s standing there, fidgeting nervously with her hands, looking down at her feet. When Cassidy finally notices Malcolm, her face lights up. Malcolm loves it.

”You made it.” Malcolm swings the door open even wider, allowing Cassidy to see the apartment before she even steps foot in it.

”It took me a bit to get here, my bike tires need air so it wasn’t the smoothest ride.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, probably to give her something to do with her hands. She doesn’t want Malcolm to think that she’s nervous.

He frowns. “Your bike?” Malcolm’s heart race picks up. “You mean you rode here?”

”Well what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t call you or a cab for a ride, so I took my bike.” Cassidy warily looks at Malcolm as she passes him by to enter his home. “Is it okay if I use your bathroom to freshen up? I’m a little sweaty from the ride.”

”Uh… yeah sure.” Cassidy has finally, truly stunned Malcolm into silence. This was not something that he accounted for. Now he has a bike to deal with. “Where, uh, where did you leave your bike?”

”Down in the parking garage. Where’s your bathroom?”

”Okay I’m going to go and grab your bike so no one can take it.” Malcolm grabs his jacket already bolting for the door when Cassidy’s laugh makes him freeze.

”Don’t be stupid, there’s no need. I chained it.” Cassidy shakes her head so that her hair falls behind her back. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Fuck. Malcolm _really_ needs to get that bike up and out of the garage. He needs to hide it. He needs to make sure that no one else is going to see a strange bike that doesn’t belong to any of the tenants. This stupid bike has thrown off his plan. He was so close, so damn close.

”Malcolm?” Cassidy’s voice breaks through his train of thought.

”Right, sorry. Go down that hallway,” he points to her right, ”and it’s the last door all the way at that end.” Malcolm’s mouth draws back into a tight lined smile. The bike can wait. He can get rid of it later, after.

”Thanks.” Her voice is flirty. It’s pathetic really.

Sure Cassidy is pretty, Malcolm wouldn’t have gone after her otherwise, but it’s sad. She’s so disillusioned, she truly thinks someone like Malcolm could ever want to be with her. He’s grown tired of her. Her novelty has worn off. She’s no longer something interesting and worthy of captivating Malcolm’s attention, he’s found something better. Someone _much_ more fun. He’s done with her now and that means the world is done with her too. Malcolm got to enjoy everything Cassidy had to offer, now no one else is allowed to. Malcolm gets final say. He gets her last smile and her dying breath. He’s the only one who is allowed to see her beauty.

The sink turns on and the roar of the running water is more than enough to cover Malcolm’s footsteps. Carefully, Malcolm unfolds the plastic tarp he hid under his bed and lays it on top, over the pale grey comforter. It pops as he smooths it over the bedspread and the overhead lights reflect back on him. It’s been too long since he’s done this. But you never know when inspiration is going to hit and Malcolm isn’t one to waste an opportunity.

The water shuts off and Malcolm scrambles to get off the bed and to the bathroom door in time. Just as Cassidy unlocks the door, Malcolm pulls it open and steps into the small room. He slips one hand into the back pocket of her pants and the other into her hair. He tightens his grip and pulls her into him, smirking as she goes limp in his grasp.

Her hands are still damp from the sink and each brush against the back of his neck leaves goosebumps in their wake. She smells like warm sugar and Malcolm rolls his eyes at the effect. She’s trying so hard. He would have found it endearing a few weeks ago, but now he’s put off by it. Not wanting for this to drag on any more than it has to, Malcolm tightens his fist in her hair, craning her head back, leaving her throat exposed and her mouth open to him.

”Bed. Now.” The severity to Malcolm’s voice stops all questions Cassidy has. She nods meekly and lets him guide her out of the bathroom.

Malcolm pushes Cassidy onto the bed and she falls back with her limbs spread waiting for the softness of the bed to catch her. Instead she’s met with the cool, smoothness of the thick plastic Malcolm had laid down earlier. Her back arches and her eyes grow wide.

”What the-”

”Shh.” Malcolm looms over her. His legs and hips trapping her in place. She can’t slide backwards, the plastic won’t allow it. “Trust me.” Malcolm’s blue eyes feign innocence with ease and Cassidy falls for it.

”Okay.” She says hesitantly. “What should I do? What are we doing?”

”Lay up by the headboard.” He waits for her to follow his directions, one leg folded on the bed and the other firmly planted on the ground. “Now put your arms out, good girl.”

With a frightening speed, Malcolm launches himself over Cassidy and reaches under the side of the bed. He comes back up with a thick black leather cuff chained to the underside of the bed. Nervously, Cassidy licks her lips. She doesn’t want to seem scared. She wants Malcolm to like her, to _want_ her.

”Kinky. Should I call you sir?” Cassidy tries to lighten the mood. Tries to talk her worries away. Malcolm remains on top of her, quietly moving about as he tightens the straps around her wrist, switching from one arm to the other.

”Shouldn’t we talk about this? I- Malcolm, please just stop for one moment. Let’s talk about this.”

He’s had enough.

”If you want to leave feel free to leave.” He dramatically reaches over and begins to undo the restraints. “I thought you were mature and I thought you wanted me, but obviously that’s not true. You’re acting like I’d hurt you. If you don’t trust me you should just leave.”

Cassidy stares up at Malcolm in fear. She’s never seen him like this before. Her hands are free of the cuffs but she still feels weighed down. She sits up, hand reaching out to cradle his face. He looks away from her.

”Go on. Just leave.” He twists to sit with his back towards her. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be here with me. I was stupid for thinking you were into me.” She gasps and Malcolm knows he has her now. “You were just using me. Please, Cassidy, just go.”

”Malcolm, no! That’s not what it is at all. Look at me.” When Malcolm doesn’t move Cassidy tries again. “Malcolm, _please_ , look at me.”

The rattle of the chain being jostled and the soft whisper of the leather sliding against skin perks Malcolm up. She’s putting the restraints back on herself. He turns around slowly, keeping his face full of pain, hiding how he truly feels.

”I trust you.” She says. She shouldn’t.

Malcolm drops his chin down to his chest and gives her a sheepish smile. He’s a wolf in sheep's clothing and she’s just sealed her own fate. Brushing her free hand out of the way, Malcolm tightens the restraint once more and loops the chain so that her arm is held out. He does the same for the other side and even for her legs. She’s helpless.

He strides over to the numerous weapons displayed on his wall. Each one is spotlessly cleaned and showcased with a sense of pride. All of these weapons are ancient and have taken lives, though some much more recently.

”See this sword?” He speaks to the apartment. “I used this one on Kitty Wallace. Carved her nose clean off.”

Cassidy’s blood chills. Why is that name so familiar? Did Malcolm actually kill someone?

”And this 15th century stiletto I used on Carmine DeSilva. I had sharpened it the day before and it tore through his skin so easily. God, I can still hear him screaming.” Malcolm’s speech is interrupted by Cassidy’s screams. She put it together. Endicott was the most recent victim of the Agnostic Killer.

Malcolm is the Agnostic Killer. Cassidy went home with the Agnostic Killer.

”No, no, no, no, Malcolm, please. Just let me go. Please, just let me go.” She sobs and pulls at the restraints, but Malcolm removed the quick releases. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go. I thought we had something?”

”Cassidy, don’t you understand? We _did_ have something.” She sucks in a deep breath and smiles at his words of reassurance, “and that’s exactly why I have to kill you.”

His fingers drag along the edge of a 17th century Sgian-dubh, a beautiful antique that he keeps in perfect working condition. Some consider the Sgian-dubh to be an early version of a hunter’s skinning knife, which is perfect for what Malcolm intends to use it for.

The girl shaking on his bed is so beautiful. She finally gets to appreciate Malcolm for who he truly is, for all the power he commands. It’s a shame that she didn’t do more to hold his attention. She was a good distraction, for a few months at least, but the restlessness she kept at bay eventually became too much and she wasn’t enough anymore. Malcolm found someone new, someone _way_ more interesting than this sweet girl. Corruption of a youthful innocence is one thing, but the thrill of breaking Gil down is far more promising.

The few steps Malcolm takes to the bed are graceful. He moves with such purpose that Cassidy can’t help but watch, mesmerized and in awe. He joins her on the bed, the plastic clings to his knees and he shuffles over to her. Throwing one leg over her hips, Malcolm plants himself on her stomach, and leers down at her.

He pinches her cheek, and the endearing act turns sinister, pain radiates from his grasp. In one smooth motion, he takes the blade in his other hand and pierces the flesh he’s pulled away from her face. Cassiday wails under him. Tears and blood roll down her face. Malcolm doesn’t mind, he knows how to handle the clean up. It took some practice but he’s got it down to a science now.

Using the incision, Malcolm continues the cut’s path up the curve of her cheekbone and into her hairline. The sharp knife parts her skin easily and Malcolm revels in smooth glide and raspy screams.

”If you keep moving, I won’t be able to get a clean line.” Malcolm informs her. Fisting more of Cassidy’s hair into his hand, Malcolm repositions her head so that she’s forced to look him in the eyes. “You better stop moving. I won’t have you ruining your beauty.”

”Malcolm, oh God, Malcolm, _please_ stop.” Shock and fear takes hold of Cassidy and her screams die down to a steady whimper of her begging for her life.

”I can’t stop, not til I’m done.” Malcolm's reply is mechanical. Cassidy’s needs don’t matter to him, they never did. It may have seemed he cared for her at one point, but that was because she entertained him; that was her purpose. Now that she no longer has purpose to Malcolm, he can dispose of her.

Thing is, Malcolm doesn’t like to share. Just because he’s done with Cassidy doesn’t mean that the world gets to have her back, far from it. She shared her life and her beauty with him, she was _his_ and no one else may ever enjoy her again.

The whirling thoughts drive his blade into Cassidy again and again. Every slice removes more and more of what first caught Malcolm’s eye. Soon, Cassidy will be stripped of the very thing that made her important. She will be lowered back to her status as an object for Malcolm’s enjoyment and nothing more.

With enough blood shed, Cassidy goes still and quiet and Malcolm can finally finish his work in peace. Flipping the lifted edge back, Malcolm lines up the side of the knife to the fibers holding her skin in place. Wiggling the blade, tip in then out, Malcolm continues to sever the strings keeping her image in place. Her flesh folds over itself, inch by inch separating from where it should lay and distorting her lovely face. Exactly as Malcolm wants.

This is the most important step in taking care of his obsessions. This is how Malcolm got his name. Agnostic meaning unknowing - removing their faces makes it nearly impossible for his obsessions to be identified. There are other methods of identification, but Malcolm removes those too. Fingerprints are burned smooth and teeth are pulled and ground.

Malcolm’s original intent was just to keep his obsessions’ beauty for himself, he never wanted to create more mystery for whoever found his obsessions. However, as the media circulated the story more and more, he decided to feed into it. The original meaning still rings true, no one else will ever be able to call Malcolm’s obsession’s beauty theirs.

The last slice of the blade is smooth. Blood soaks Cassidy and Malcolm’s clothing, causing it to cling to them unnaturally. Cleanup is a breeze. The body is put onto a new tarp and is placed next to the penthouse elevator. The dirtied tarp gets emptied and cleaned in the shower along with Malcolm. Once he’s clear of any visible signs of his sins, Malcolm steps out of the shower and heads into the empty parking garage.

Cassidy is placed into the trunk of his car, she’s no longer any use to Malcolm but he’s still delicate with her. He’d never do anything to disrespect her. Afterall, Malcolm takes very good care of what is his.

Malcolm knows his way around the backstreets of the boroughs. With ease he navigates his way past all the cameras that are broken, the streets that no one is ever on this late at night, and pulls into the parking lot of the coffee shop Cassidy used to work at.

The back end of his car is brought up to stop at the front entrance. The sidewalk leads right to the front door, the lack of stairs makes Malcolm’s work easier, and he begins planning on how he’s going to position Cassidy.

He sits her up against the glass door, some of the blood, now tacky as it dries, smudges against it and Malcolm huffs. He carefully crosses her legs and places her palms upturned on her knees so that her smooth fingers are easily visible. She’s set perfectly. On first inspection, no one will know who she is, but the Agnostic Killer always places his victims outside of where they work, so it will really only take a couple of hours before all employees are contacted and DNA samples are run to find a match.

The cloak of night is beginning to fade and Malcolm knows that he has to get back home soon to deal with one final loose end. Satisfied with Cassidy, he heads back to his car and returns to his apartment. There in the parking garage is Cassidy’s bike, chained to the bike rack, and throwing quite the wrench in Malcolm’s plans. He needs to get rid of the bike, it _can’t_ stay tied to the bike rack of his apartment, that’s enough suspicion to question him at the very least. It has to go.

Muttering to himself as he goes, Malcolm digs through his hall closet for anything that can unlock the bike and comes out with bolt cutters. Not wanting to risk getting caught with someone in the elevator, Malcolm takes the stairs, running down to the garage to get there before the morning work rush. A simple pair of gloves is all it takes to ensure that no trace of himself is left on the metal. He cuts through the chain with ease and hauls it into the building’s main lobby.

There’s a communal storage closet where people put their belongings they don’t mind sharing or don’t use that often. There’s a child’s battery powered jeep, two snowboards, and a handful of bikes tucked into the back corner. It’s the perfect spot for Cassidy’s old bike. The bike gets buried and the lock goes in the trash. Malcolm is finally free of her.

The elevator climbs to Malcolm’s loft and his adrenaline begins to drop. If he goes right to bed he’ll be able to get three hours of sleep. Not that it’ll happen, but at least it will be something. It doesn’t matter, he knows a great coffee shop he can visit tomorrow. Something tells him it’s going to be crowded though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long break between chapters! this one just didn't want to be written, thanks everyone for being so patient <3

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a typo that said “Gil touches the soft sin of Malcolm” and being raised in a strict Catholic household.  
> Come and join the [PSon Trash Server](%E2%80%9C) for some 18+ content.  
> Updates will be sporadic but on Sundays.


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